Agony
by the-singular-peep
Summary: Pain was something she knew, of course. She had been through war, through battle after battle experiencing nothing less than excruciating pain. But this was something different. Someone was slipping away, and the hurt was unfamiliar. The hurt was too much. [DRABBLE. COMPLETE.]
_Agony_

Order 66 had been commanded. No Jedi was safe from the hands of his own soldiers; no Jedi was even safe from one another. Chaos was everywhere, and even those who were lost could sense the destruction.

Ahsoka Tano, aged a little less than one year since her expulsion from the order, was passing through a small trading city on her way to no where, her light steps causing dust to puff from the dirt streets. She was cold, she would admit that, but she could honestly say she was doing alright after leaving. It wasn't like she was foraging for food or had turned savage (Even if, she would rather not admit, she found most of her food in the form of scraps given by kind strangers).

She had been walking for a very long time this time, no food in her system and exhaustion picking at her skin and eyes. She did not look very healthy, but she felt as if she could go on for a few days more. Overall she felt fine, even if sleep was licking at her eyelids and hunger was waiting in her stomach.

This is why it was unexpected when, suddenly, her head erupted in pain. She assumed naturally at first that it was due to her weariness, and didn't think much of it. She leaned over slightly, her eyes squinched closed and a hand on her head, but she felt as if she would be alright. She needed to find food quickly, however. She straightened slowly, her head still pounding with searingly blinding pain. She walked as slowly as she dared to not seem suspicious, keeping one hand on her head at all times. She had found a way to manage the pain slightly, adjusting to it's screaming and reverting back to the Jedi training that had taught her to resist pain as she walked. Only one or two citizens wandering the streets stared, and mostly those were children. She really didn't think she was causing much of a scene, thank the force. But that may soon change, she realized. Her mind was now foggy and the pain in her head was becoming worse. Quietly she slipped away into an empty house - a small, one roomed structure molded out of clay and the strawberry grasses of this planet - and was immediately bathed in the quiet that existed away from the streets. She wasn't thinking of who it belonged to; as she was alone for now, she didn't care.

And suddenly she cried out, her voice extremely loud and horse. She doubled, shutting her eyes at the pressure in her head. Something was wrong. Something was extremely, terribly, undoubtedly wrong. Instant sadness ripped through her skull, and within moments Ahsoka was able to recognize it as a tug at a force bond. A cry for help; someone was reaching out to her. It had been months and initially she was unable to sense who it was who was calling out. A throbbing pulse became present in her mind, and then it slowed. The pain in her head disappeared and suddenly it was her heart that hurt. Pain shot through the artery, and tears sprung into her eyes as she knelt.

Plo Koon. Her master, her friend, the only reason that at least fifteen years of her life had been good. He had helped her when no one else would, had patted her head when she was scolded by other youngling clan leaders, he had showed her the light side when everything else felt dark. He was as important as her own Master - her former Master, that is. Ahsoka could feel the pain Plo was in, and sadness was welling so deeply within her she felt it might burst. She immediately vomited, bile and blood from her dry throat being expelled onto the dirt floors of the dark room. She was in too much pain, emotionally and physically, to care about the owner of this empty house and the mess. She couldn't care. Someone very important was disappearing, and she felt helpless. There was nothing she could do to stop it, and she wanted to scream, to thrash, to cry. She felt as if she were once again a youngling clinging to Master Plo's shirt as he led her away from the despair of her past life, and she longed for nothing less. She wanted to be held by him, just one last time, like the innocent child she was before the war. The pulse stopped. Her breath hitched. She didn't know how, but suddenly it became clear, and only one thought was screaming in her mind.

Plo Koon was dead.


End file.
